


Flowers and Festivals

by CanaryCry



Series: DickTiger Week 2018 [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Grayson (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Canonical Character Death, First Dates, Florists, Flowers, Fluff, Language of Flowers, M/M, Minor Helena Bertinelli/Barbara Gordon, Police Officer Dick Grayson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 06:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13805208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanaryCry/pseuds/CanaryCry
Summary: DickTiger Week Day 5: Alternate UniverseTiger is a florist. Dick Grayson is a police officer who rushes into Tiger's store to order an arrangement... five minutes before closing.





	Flowers and Festivals

**Author's Note:**

> CW: I didn't put it in the tags, but there is a short discussion of racism on the dating scene.
> 
> I consulted a few different sources, but most flowers have several different meanings.
> 
> Also, I've gotten really attached to this AU oh god help

Tiger was not a florist because he liked helping hopeless heterosexual men chose last-minute gifts for their unfortunate girlfriends. Like most, he was a florist because he liked _flowers_. People? Not so much.

At least he'd set up his shop, Tiger's Lilies _,_ in Blüdhaven rather than the neighbouring Gotham City. People there were _strange_. People here were just exhausting.

Those who came in five minutes from closing were the most exhausting. When that person was an off-duty police officer with a panicked look in his eyes? Even more so.

The officer skidded to a stop in front of the counter, slamming his hands down to stop himself from moving. “Hi. Quick question: do you do apology floral arrangements?”

“I do anything that is not illegal,” Tiger replied, reaching for his pen and notepad. “Your name?”

“Richard Grayson,” the officer said, tapping his namebadge, which read _R. Grayson_ along with a string of numbers. “I go by Dick, though.”

“Recipient?”

“Helena Bertinelli. She's a detective, if that matters.”

“Pick up or delivery?” Tiger chose not to mention Helena was his roommate. His parents back home in Afghanistan didn't even know. Having to explain that he lived with a woman who was not his wife, and that he was not interested in women at all, would raise far too many questions.

Officer Grayson tapped his chin. “Hm. Can I get them delivered to her desk by, like, tomorrow afternoon? She gets off around dinnertime so any time before then is cool.”

“You are fortunate this is not a busy season.” Tiger scribbled a note onto his pad. “I can have a courier take them to reception, where they will be screened and then sent to her.”

“Ain't your first police rodeo, huh?”

“That makes no sense, Officer Grayson.”

“Please, call me Dick.” The man flashed a bright smile, and Tiger had to resist the temptation to smile back.

“Very well. That makes no sense, Dick.”

Dick laughed. “English is the worst.” He slid a credit card from his wallet. “So, how much is this gonna hurt my savings?”

He paid, chattering the whole time. Tiger could feel a headache coming on. He just wanted to close up and go home. Possibly eat his body weight in whatever food was left in the fridge.

Finally, _finally_ , several minutes after closing time, Dick Grayson was ready to leave. Except, on the way out the door:

“Oh, by the way,” he said, hand resting on the handle. “What's the story behind the name?”

“I call myself Tiger,” Tiger replied. “Long story. My roommate thought the shop name was clever.”

Dick chuckled. “Tell your roommate they have good taste.” Then he was gone.

“I absolutely will not,” Tiger muttered. He had no intention of mentioning this encounter to Helena at all, mainly because it would ruin the floral surprise.

Oh, and Helena knew he was gay and had been throwing men at him ever since. She did not need more encouragement in the form of an overly talkative but blindingly attractive police officer... not until Tiger could find a woman to throw at her in revenge.

* * *

The following evening, Helena got home while Tiger was devouring leftover fried rice in front of the television. She placed the floral arrangement on the table and put her hands on her hips.

“So,” she said. “When were you gonna tell me Grayson came into your shop?”

Tiger swallowed his rice. “Never. That would violate florist-patient confidentiality.”

“I regret ever telling you to work on your sense of humour.” Helena threw herself on the couch and stole a forkful of rice. “Did you even microwave this?”

“I was hungry.”

“You are a disaster.” She grabbed the bowl off him and marched into the kitchen. A few slams and beeps later, and the microwave was humming.

Tiger stared at his arrangement. Knowing Helena was going to take him to task on it, he'd taken his time putting it together. Tiger hadn't known how friendly Dick and Helena were since she had never mentioned him before, so he avoided flowers with any obvious romantic meanings.

Helena was fond of purple, so a purple hyacinth was an obvious choice. He accompanied them with white tulips and a few delicate lily-of-the-valley stalks. The white-and-purple combination reminded him of her, so he'd finished the arrangement by placing them in a dark purple box with a white ribbon. They were home now, however, so it would be best to move them to a vase.

Tiger brought the flowers into the kitchen and dug through the cabinets until he found his favourite vase: a twisting, wavy creation with an amethyst pattern pressed between the layers of glass. It may have actually been amethyst, but Tiger doubted it. Helena had bought it for his birthday, and she certainly did not make enough on a government salary to buy something that expensive without the most practical of purposes.

Regardless, it complimented the arrangement, so he was using it.

The microwave beeped and Helena dragged out two bowls. Tiger did not understand how she could balance both of them in there, but she did it regularly. She shoved his bowl in his hands, stopping him from adjusting the flowers.

“It looks great as it is,” she said. “I'm hungry and curious.”

They returned to the living room, ignoring whatever boring show Tiger had been watching before she arrived. Even he was not sure.

“Now,” Helena said, stirring her rice with her fork. “When the hell did Grayson find time to run down to your store?”

“Five minutes before closing yesterday,” Tiger replied, shoving a forkful of rice in his mouth. He swallowed quickly and pretended it hadn't almost burned his tongue off.

Helena sighed. “Of course. I hope he didn't bother you too much.”

“He was friendly and polite,” Tiger replied. “I managed not to hate him despite the inconvenience. What exactly did he _do_?”

“Oh, that?” Helena snorted. “He contaminated a crime scene.”

“And you did not kill him?”

“I'm sure he wished I did, with the way I yelled at him.” She ate a mouthful of rice. “Turns out it wasn't his fault. One of the other rookies moved a sack of rice behind him without telling anyone. He tripped. Fell on a coffee table and smashed it, and our chances of finding fingerprints on the glass. He's lucky he didn't need stitches.”

“Did he know it wasn't his fault yesterday?”

“No. The other rookie owned up today, about the time the flowers arrived. I honestly think Dick was close to bursting into tears. Did he seem upset to you last night?”

“Panicked,” Tiger replied. “He was soon distracted by the strangeness of the English language, and smiled like a movie star.” Tiger almost facepalmed at himself. Honestly.

Helena chuckled. “Sounds like him. He's a nice kid. A little green, but heart's in the right place. Not much younger than you, actually.”

“You are not setting me up with him.”

“You mentioned his smile. It must have made an impact on you.” Helena nudged him. “Come on. Maybe you'll enjoy yourself.”

* * *

Tiger could not believe he had let Helena talk him into this. But it had been a long time since he had last tried to date... and Dick Grayson was an attractive man.

“Oh, by the way,” Helena said as she fussed over Tiger's shirt buttons, “I have a date in Gotham city tonight, so if you want to bring him back here...”

Tiger ignored the implication. “You did not tell me you had a date.”

“Didn't I?” Helena stepped back. “Okay, you're looking great. That shirt makes your forearms look massive... in a good way.”

“Helena, who are you seeing in Gotham?”

“Oh, just the police commissioner's daughter. Barbara. She and Dick went to school together, actually.” Helena passed him the bouquet he'd rested in a vase on the coffee table. He had another vase set up in the car because he travelled with his arrangements more than was probably normal, even for a florist. “Now. Remember to be polite, and smile at least once. Dick's good at running with scraps of conversation, but there's no reason to make it more difficult than it has to be. Be careful if you ask about his family.”

Tiger managed to get out the door without too much fussing. He carefully set his arrangement in the vase, adjusting the positions of the bronze chrysanthemums and the sunflowers amongst the bed of leaves until he was satisfied. Excitement and happiness seemed like good message to send for a first date, even if Dick probably wouldn't know the meaning behind the arrangement. Tiger would have to learn his favourite colour if this date went well.

He drove to Dick's apartment across the city. The buildings in the area were at times graffitied and damaged, but there were many families walking around this evening. They looked happy, at least. Tiger, not for the first time this week, missed his parents.

He buzzed Dick's apartment, flowers in hand. Dick's voice crackled through the speaker, inviting him up. Tiger swallowed a surge of nerves and stepped inside the building.

Dick's apartment was on the top floor. The elevator screeched like it wanted to kill someone, but delivered Tiger there safely. His stomach jumped as he knocked on the correct door.

Dick threw it open with a broad grin. “Well, hello stranger! Ooh, are those for me?”

“Yes.” Tiger handed them over.

“Come on in,” Dick said, disappearing into the apartment. Tiger stepped inside, and Dick's voice drifted in from the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable. I just need to find something nice enough to do these justice. Ah, that'll work.”

Tiger perched on the edge of the couch, listening to Dick clatter around in the kitchen. The apartment, despite its unexpected location, was well-maintained, clearly loved. There were photo frames on a shelf beside the small television. A few showed Dick smiling with a tall older man— _oh_ , that was Bruce Wayne. A few with younger people, presumably siblings, including a scowling brown-skinned child; Tiger had a vague recollection of Bruce Wayne suddenly having a biological son out of nowhere. There was another frame on the wall above the shelf that held a poster of a circus act called the _Flying Graysons_ : two adults and a young boy.

Tiger had spent enough time in Gotham city to know the man, currently filling a vase and muttering _don't ruin the art, dude_ , was in fact _that_ Richard Grayson. Tiger had never given him much thought; most of the major events that put Dick in the spotlight had already occurred by the time Tiger arrived in America as barely an adult.

Most. He vaguely remembered some articles about unsuccessful kidnappings.

Dick returned to the living room and set a clear glass vase on the table. It was clearly a gift from someone with no taste, but at least it was inoffensive. Tiger set to carefully rearranging the flowers within until he was satisfied they fit his vision once again.

“Sorry,” Dick said. “They got a little jumbled and I tried to put them right.”

“It is fine,” Tiger replied. “I simply have very particular tastes.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “Good taste?”

“In flowers,” Tiger said firmly. “In men? That remains to be seen.”

Dick laughed. “Ooh, I like you. Shall we?”

They piled into Tiger's car.

“So,” Dick said, “where are we headed?”

“Do you like pizza?”

“I fucking love pizza.”

“Good. Did Helena mention there is a pizza festival tonight?”

Dick smacked his forehead. “Oh my god, she did. She even brought out the Italian hand gestures and insisted we all go. And then she goes off to Gotham city to see one of my best friends instead.”

Tiger pulled away from the curb, heading down the street. “Yes. Barbara.”

“Helena told you? Nice of her. I heard it from Babs, like, right before you arrived.” Dick shrugged. “I mean, Helena is more of a really scary coworker than a friend so I get it, but she did buy me ice cream the other night to apologise for yelling at me. I think she felt bad about the flowers. Why didn't you tell me you were roommates?”

“It is not something I tell many people,” Tiger admitted. “Also, I was tired and wanted to go home.”

“Sorry. I panicked.”

“You are forgiven... but only because you have a nice smile.”

“Aww. You have great arms, by the way.”

Tiger sent out a silent _thank you_ to Helena for insisting he wore this shirt. He parked the car a few streets away from the festival and they walked the rest of the way, not quite touching but hovering in each other's space.

The pizza festival occupied the town square, and the noise was like a physical wall pushing Tiger backwards. Dick slid his hand into Tiger's and led him forward.

“So, what do you wanna try?” Dick asked. “I think there's a pizza-making class.

“Clearly Helena has not told you anything about my cooking abilities.” Tiger could manage when no one was watching. Here? In public? He was liable to set his lungee on fire.

“Ah, I can't cook either. Why don't we just split a pizza?”

A short laugh burst from Tiger. “I do not 'split' pizza.”

Dick showed his blinding grin. “You make a fair argument. Let's grab, like, three pizzas to share. I'm hungry as hell but I don't think I can eat two.”

“That is agreeable.”

They lined up for woodfire pizzas—Tiger went for a traditional margherita and Dick chose mediterranean—and then Dick spotted a dessert pizza stall so they ended up buying a Nutella pizza. Tiger did not understand why such a thing existed, but Dick was practically yelling with excitement.

They found a quieter corner to sit, laying out their boxes on the spool-shaped wooden table. There was a pizza-tossing competition nearby. Dick laughed every time the dough landed on someone's head, which was often.

Dick stole a slice of Tiger's Margherita. “So, awkward icebreaker time?”

Tiger stole a slice of Dick's mediterranean. “If we must.”

“I'm a pro at this. Trust me. We met in your shop. How'd you decide to be a florist?”

Tiger shrugged. “I like flowers, and did not know what else to do. How did you decide to become a police officer?”

“You saw the photos in my apartment,” Dick replied. He took a moment to shove the rest of the pizza slice in his mouth, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “Long story short because it's totally gonna bring down the mood, my bio-parents were murdered in Gotham when I was eight and the police force had a hell of a time bringing their killer to justice because there was so much corruption. They managed it, eventually, but that mainly because one police lieutenant took it upon himself to fight through it all. He's the commissioner now. I owe a lot to him, and I wanted to be that person for someone else.”

“Why Blüdhaven?”

“My adoptive dad's too famous in Gotham,” Dick replied, picking up one of his own slices of pizza this time. “Going a little ways down the river made a huge difference. I still get recognised sometimes, but mostly by coworkers who see me every day.”

“Ah, yes. Bruce Wayne.”

“You recognised his photo?”

Tiger nodded. “You were already adopted when I arrived in America. It would appear I missed the excitement.”

Dick snorted. “Oh, the excitement hasn't stopped. Do you have any idea how many people tried to kidnap me as a teenager?”

“I... seem to recall some news articles about that.”

“You'd think they would've stopped trying after, like, the tenth attempt, but noooooo.” Dick took a break to shove almost an entire slice of pizza in his mouth. “One time when I was about thirteen, I actually annoyed my would-be kidnappers so much that they let me go. Bruce listened quietly to the police tell him what happened, and then nodded and said 'fair enough.' I was so offended.”

“I... can see that happening. You do like to talk.”

“What can I say? I'm a people person.” Dick tried to steal another slice of Tiger's pizza, but Tiger slapped his hand away. “Anyway, I feel like I've been talking too much. Tell me about your family.”

“My parents still live in Afghanistan,” Tiger replied, defensively eating three slices of his pizza in a row. There was only one left now, and it was _his_. “We... have not spoken in a while.”

“Oh?”

Tiger shrugged. “It is difficult to talk to them about my life. They know I am a florist and they support me, even if they do not understand my choice, but they do not know I have a female roommate, or that I am gay.” Dick had shared plenty about his family. It only seemed fair to do the same.

“Sounds rough,” Dick replied, starting on the Nutella pizza.

“Says the orphan.” Tiger... regretted those words immediately.

But Dick just laughed some more. “Touche. To be fair, though, Bruce is super accepting. And I'm not gonna out anybody, but I'm definitely not the only one in the family. The only thing I have to worry about is the fam getting super protective of me... which they always do. Do you think you'll ever tell your parents?”

“I do not know.” Tiger shoved a piece of Nutella pizza into his mouth before he could become emotional. “Perhaps if I wish to marry. Until then, I would risk estrangement for no practical reason.”

“Well, I hope you're wrong about them,” Dick said softly. Tiger needed to talk about something else. Now.

“This pizza is better than I expected.” That would do.

Dick took the hint. “Yeah! I've had something similar before, but this blows it out of the water.”

They carefully avoided difficult topics after that. It was strange how easily the words about Tiger's family had come. He did not typically tell near-strangers such personal details, but Dick did not feel like a stranger.

The hour grew late. Dick and Tiger bought gelato right before the stalls began to pack up. They ambled through the nearby park, talking about nothing important. Weird flower requests and odd 911 calls. Tiger had to put up a sign in his shop for several weeks refusing to order any and all flowers that smelled like rotting flesh, and there were several. Dick had once responded to a 911 call where the caller turned out to be a nine-year-old who couldn't reach the cookie jar while his parents were out.

They sat on a park bench under a street light, rubbing the sticky residue of ice cream from their fingers. Dick hadn't stopped laughing for over a minute... over something Tiger had said. Tiger hadn't thought it was that funny, but Dick had a nice laugh so he did not complain.

Dick sighed, his eyes alight with the kind of joy Tiger had never known. “I've had a good time tonight.”

“Me too,” Tiger said, almost before he could think.

“We should do this again.”

“Yes.”

Then Dick was in his lap. Tiger squeezed him. They kissed, leaning into each other, deepening quickly. Quicker than Tiger had ever kissed before... but it felt right. He opened his mouth to Dick's tongue. Dick tasted of strawberry gelato.

Then Dick reeled backwards, just enough that Tiger could breathe again. “You know... the night is young.”

Tiger swallowed. “My apartment is closest... and all mine for the night.”

* * *

They kissed against the door. Then on the couch. Tiger retreated for a moment to take off his lungee and put it away. Dick turned on the television, volume almost inaudible, and they lay on the couch together for a while.

Dick played with the hair on the nape of Tiger's neck. “Helena warned me not to scare you off, you know. Made it sound like you didn't date very often.”

Tiger was happily resting his head against Dick's chest. “I do not.”

“Could've fooled me. You kiss like a pro.”

Tiger huffed in both amusement at Dick, and irritation at the memories this conversation inspired. “I have dated before.”

“And?”

“There are a lot of racist white men out there.”

“Oh, tell me about it.” Dick groaned. “I briefly dated this hipster kinda guy a while back, right until he started throwing a certain anti-Romani slur around to describe his art aesthetic or whatever the fuck. He got mad when I told him I was Roma and he was being an ass.”

“One man kept introducing me as his Arab boyfriend to his friends,” Tiger replied. “I told him every time that I am Pashtun, not Arab, but he never listened. He was surprised when I broke up with him. Finding men who will date me is hard enough. When you remove the racists, they are almost non-existent.”

“'Remove the racists' sounds like assassination,” Dick said, grinning down at him.

“How do you know that is not what I am doing?”

“Oh, okay. Carry on.”

Tiger propped himself up on his elbow to kiss Dick some more. It almost frightened him how easy this was. They barely knew each other. This was their first date. He already wanted another one. And another. And another.

“Do you need to get home tonight?” Tiger asked.

“It's my day off tomorrow,” Dick replied. “I can stay over, if you're cool with it.”

“I am.”

“Perfect.”

They kissed until they could barely keep their eyes open, and fell asleep on the couch. Breakfast the following morning was pancakes, the one thing Dick could reliably cook before midday. They sat at the kitchen table opposite each other, feet tangling together as they ate.

Halfway through the comfortably quiet breakfast, Tiger remembered to ask, “What is your favourite colour?”

“Blue,” Dick replied. “But I like everything, really.” His eyes slid to Helena's bouquet, just visible on the living room coffee table from this angle. “Why?”

“No reason.”

“If you say so.” Dick was definitely making fun of him now, but that was okay. It had been a long time since Tiger had wanted to make an arrangement for someone who was not a client or Helena. Dick was going to become so sick of flowers.

Helena arrived home in time to steal some pancakes and tease them about sleeping over.

“I knew you two would hit it off,” she said, squeezing a generous amount of maple syrup onto her pancakes. “Did you enjoy yourselves?”

“It's not what it looks like,” Dick replied, his cheeks turning pink. “Nothing happened.”

“Of course not. Tiger's a gentleman. Aren't you, Tiger?”

“I... suppose,” Tiger replied.

Dick rolled his eyes. “You don't have to look out for me, detective.”

“Okay, rookie,” said Helena. “Tell me, Tiger. Did Richard behave appropriately towards you?”

“He did,” Tiger answered.

“There we have it. You're both gentlemen.” Helena's phone buzzed. Tiger caught the name Barbara Gordon on the screen before she answered it. “Hello, gorgeous. Miss me already?”

Dick and Tiger washed the dishes while Helena wandered off to continue her conversation. Tiger found he liked standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Dick at the sink, like they had done this many times before.

Dick bumped his hip against Tiger's. “I had a good time. You?”

“Yes. I did.” The best time. Tiger's mind was already spinning with what arrangement he could bring Dick for their second date.

Dick leaned over and kissed Tiger on the cheek. “Same time next week?”

“That sounds good.”

“Glad to hear it.” Then Dick nipped his earlobe. “Let's have dinner at my place next time. I've got some _great_ ideas for dessert. BYO utensils, if you catch my drift.”

If Helena had not been in the house, Tiger might have told him not to wait for next week. Instead, he cupped Dick's face with his wet hands, giving him the deepest, dirtiest kiss he could manage.

“I will see you there,” he whispered against Dick's lips.

The dishes were quickly forgotten. At least, until Helena returned and threw a towel at them. Dick quickly fled the apartment, laughing all the way.

Helena took his spot at the sink, and helped Tiger finish the washing. “He's a good guy, Tiger. I'm glad you like him.”

Tiger was glad he liked him, too.

Then Helena's smile turned evil. “Since our partners are friends, we should go on a double date some time.”

“Maybe,” Tiger said. Meaning _no_. Or, at least, _not yet_. Tiger wanted Dick all to himself, just for a little longer.

And, to think, this all happened because a panicked Officer Grayson rushed into his store five minutes before closing, and Tiger had liked his smile. Incredible.


End file.
